Lost In Paradise
by Harlequin
Summary: The GenX Kids need a vacation, bad! So Emma takes them to a lil' island. Chaos ensues. 2nd Chances


****

Lost In Paradise

"It was nice of you to come talk to me," Emma began—and with those few words Sean knew she wanted something. She always wanted something—her school back, her students back, some new toy to play her games with—but this time, he didn't know what she wanted. 

So standing there in her office, arms folded up across chest and looking over her, he snapped up the bait that she dangled. "What do ye want?" He decided against 'What is this about?' or 'What do you want to discuss?' and simply got straight to the point.

Her full lips quirked slightly, a smile becoming slowly apparent there. "I want to take the students on a vacation of sorts. To an island in the South Pacific on which I own property."

"Ye want t' do _what?_" He sputtered. Take the kids away? Already? What scheme did she have in mind to get them away from his watchful eye?

Her smile broadened. "Give them an early spring break."

"Emma, it's January."

"Yes, Sean. I'm quite aware of that."

"Spring is a bit away."

"I realize this Sean. But I think it's necessary."

Sean shifted, tightening his arms over his chest in a vaguely defensive gesture. "I'm just sayin'—" 

She waved a hand, cutting him off sharply, "—you're 'just saying', Sean, that you want to push the class. And I fully agree. But do you think that they're in any shape to continue studying their normal studies, let alone begin to work under Callisto's rigorous hand-to-hand training? They need a chance to become a team again on a personal level, and to adjust."

His eyes darkened as he looked away. Gayle had a new shoulder of polymers and steel, Jonothon could barely say three words with effort, and Everett was coping with the fact that a week before Christmas Eve, he had taken a life in defense of his home and friends. Could he really expect these children to go right back into their training? "But Emma, is it really wise? To—"

"—to give them the down time they need? Yes, definitely. Worn, tired, and demoralized students will not learn. They will merely get by. Once they are ready, they will resume training in full force. But we will merely cause more damage now if we press for performance at this time." She gathered up some papers, and slid them across her desk, "I've already made the proper arrangements. There will be two beach houses—one for the students, one for the faculty."

Sean coughed and sputtered, briefly distracted from the question at hand. "Ye canna think that they'd not tear it apart in a day?"

"You don't think they're capable of being responsible adults? Jonothon and Gayle both just turned twenty-two, if I must remind you. Paige just turned twenty, and Monet just had her birthday just two weeks ago." _Though whether that makes her nineteen or ten years old is still up for debate_, she mused inwardly.

"Angelo and Jubilee are still minors."

"Angelo has been fighting, drinking, smoking, and having sex—all under age—for quite some time before he came into our care. And he continues to smoke—and given the opportunity, you can bet he'll be in bed with Paige."

The audacity! Sean almost turned _purple, _as he began to sputter again, "Which is exactly why ye—"

"I trust Paige to make an adult decision. She's twenty, and I'm not going to reel in a boy who has little by way of sexual innocence because he hasn't turned eighteen. As far as I'm concerned, they're legal, Sean. Cope." 

"It dosnae matter if they're 'legal' tae me! It's immoral."

"Not all of us share your values, Sean. You have to let them make choices for themselves. It's not like we need to worry about pregnancy with Paige, nor disease from either of them." Her smile turned sly, "Angelo and I handled a small… problem before I ever let him on campus. They're both clean, and Paige cannot have children. We will not have any undesired pregnancies or illness."

He threw up his hands, shaking his head. "Fine then. Ye aren't going tae take no for an answer. Ye can have your bloody vacation, and they can tear apart a beach house and end up with a teenage debacle on the beach."

"Sean… did I ever say I was asking for permission?" She rose from her desk, smile still on her lips, as she plucked up the file folder sitting before her. "Here is the agenda and supply list, as well as travel dates. Now, good evening, Sean." And with that, she walked over to the door and stepped out—and then waited for him to follow. 

Beaten, he followed after.

********

Five days later, Emma was standing outside the beach house. Before the oldest pair of her charges, she held up a set of house keys and eyed them both warily.

"These," she jingled the keys over Jonothon's outstretched palm, "are the keys to the house. This does include the liquor cabinet. As you are over twenty-one, and incapable of drinking, much less getting inebriated, you will be in charge of the keys." 

Jonothon's eyes narrowed at the comment, but nevertheless, his fingers curled around the keys as they were dropped into his hand. Cheers. he emitted flatly.

"You two are both very much adults now. You are in charge of the others by virtue of your age. I expect you to behave as such." 

He nodded quietly, and then watched her as she walked down the porch and onto the sand to re-join Sean and Callisto. Idiot idea, he grumbled to himself. He was not pleased. 

"It's _not_ an idiot idea, Jonny," Gayle countered as she nudged him with her good arm, the other still in a sling, healing from the damage done to her three weeks ago by over-zealous Hellfire Club soldiers under the command of Selene. "Besides, you _are_ the oldest. I'd hate to see what would happen if they put the keys in, say, Jubilee's hands."

"Hey!" came the indignant squawk from Jubilee, who stood on the steps waiting for the door to be opened.

She'd lose 'em. Jonothon said without a care for Jubilee's feelings on the matter. Slowly, but surely, he was regaining his ability to speak, but he still couldn't manage more than a few, grated words at a time. 

"Besides," Gayle continued blithely, "Who else is Emma going to trust with the keys to the liquor cabinet other than the bloke who can't help but be the responsible one."

Can't drink, he repeated just what Emma'd said. He got the keys because he could be 'responsible'. Yeah. Right. The gothpunk in black leather was the _responsible_ one. He had to wonder what had possessed her to think _that._

"Exactly. However," She added with a hint of a smirk, "I plan on having a glass of sherry if—" 

Her words were cut short as Jono shook his head firmly, shaggy bangs flopping into his eyes. He No. 

"Hey now! I'm legal—no matter what bloody country I'm in."

No. Healing. He reached up and lightly touched the arm still in its sling as he fumbled with the keys.

"Will you two please cease talking and open the door?" Monet requested tersely.

He sighed softly, already dreading the rest of the week. At least Penance had been taken over to the faculty's beach house… though he pitied the furniture. Finally, the door was unlocked and everyone went inside. 

Once everyone was in the living room, which was a large spacious affair, Jono clapped his hands twice to get their attention. He pointed upstairs as his brown eyes swept over the assembled young mutants. Four rooms, he intoned, but before he could continue, Gayle put up her hand. He arched a brow, looking at her for a moment.

"Let me tell them?" she asked, and was silent until he finally nodded his agreement. "Alright. There are four bedrooms. Two have two beds in them, one has a small single, and one is the master bedroom with a king-size bed." She smirked slightly, and added, "Ev and Angelo in one room, Paige and Jubilee in another. I've snagged the master, and Monet has the other single."

"And why do you get the master bedroom?" Monet asked icily.

"Because I'm still recuperating, and I know a lot of you still think I'm going to get up and steal your bones in the dark of the night." 

Jonothon snorted dryly, and then added, flatly. She's sharin'. He paused, and then added, Wit' me. 

He received a withering look from Paige, but tried not to get defensive. Just stashin' stuff, he grumbled.

"Yeah, Ah bet," Paige muttered under her breath, but straightened slightly when Angelo nudged her.

"Green ain't your color, Country Mouse," he whispered.

She blushed slightly, and shrugged. "I'm not jealous," she whispered back, her blue eyes shifting to her arguably current beau, "I'm noting the hypocrisy.' Regardless, she felt rightfully chastised—there was nothing to get jealous about. She was over Jono. Completely and utterly over him. And to prove so, she just shrugged at the announcement, and began to head upstairs, bag—and Angelo—in tow.

Jonothon just sighed softly as he watched the others shuffle off to put their things away. This wasn't going to be a pleasant vacation. He just knew it. 

********

"This is going to be so cool!" 

"Yes," Jubilee decided, "this is indeed, The Bomb." A house to themselves, Ev on her arm, beaches, and no Sean or Emma watching them like hawks. 

"Yeah, I know. But what are we going to do over the week? I mean… how long has it been since we did anything… together?" Paige asked as she unpacked her clothes and put them away. 

"We're gunna swim—"

"Yeah. And watch Angelo suddenly suffer exposure, Jono hide somewhere up the beach, still all in black, and who knows what Gayle'll do."

"Gayle'll probably pick at Jono, but I don't know if she can swim an' all with her shoulder all messed up." 

A thoughtful sound came from the displaced farm-girl, and who said, "Hey, Jube, y' think… maybe that just us girls ought to get together and… be without the guys and the fights and stuff?"

"You mean, you want to be able to see Gayle without Jono, so you don't have to throw a hissy fit?" Jubilee replied casually.

"Yeah," Paige's voice was about as warm as the arctic. "Something like that." 

The older mutant sighed softly, dropping down to sit at the end of her bed and look over, "To be honest, I have no _idea_ how you and Ev manage it. To have no problems, no jealousy, no nothing…," _No passion?_ Paige didn't voice, "it's insane."

Jubilee paused, and looked down at the floor a moment, vaguely guilty. As she did not speak, nor move, for a time, Paige prompted her, "Jubilee? There somethin' wrong?"

"Nah, ain't that," Jubilee said as she ran her hands through her short, wild hair. "It's… you're gunna find this really weird, but…" she looked over at Paige helplessly, "I still get jealous of her."

"Her who?"

"M! Monet!" The Asian teen threw up her hands, and began to speak quickly, urgently, "I mean, Ev was _my _first kiss and all, but Monet was his! And she's a pair of… of… ten year olds!" She made a positively disgusted noise, and sat down on the bed and looked at her helplessly. "And she's _still _gorgeous and super-intelligent and rich and I kinda wonder, y' know… if he's always… gunna want me when there are people like _her_ out there." 

Paige reached out, chuckling softly, and laid a hand on Jubilee's knee. "Jubes, hon, you have nothin' to worry 'bout from Monet. Y'know Ev wouldn't do that to you. He's… he's not _like_ other guys. He's loyal and sweet and he… he loves you very much, and has for a while now."

The other girl seemed to ponder something for a moment, and then said, "Kinda like you and Angelo." 

Paige blinked. Her and Angelo!? But they'd only just gotten together! They'd been… whatever they were… less than a month! How did Jubilee know already?! 

"Yo, Hayseed, chill. Ange's been sharkin' for ya for a while. Y' were just so wrapped up with Jono's bandages you didn't ever notice." 

Paige blushed _furiously_ that Jubilee could so casually bring this up. "'Sharking' for me, Jubilee?"

"Yeah. Or as Gayle would say, 'On the pull'. At least, I think that's it." She grinned broadly, white teeth almost shark-like as well, "and I mean, you were oblivious. 'Specially after whatever wild thing you and Jono did to get all… tangled up."

"Ah didn't do any _'wild thing' _with Jono, _thank you very much!_" Paige said with no small amount of fluster, a red flush washing from the neckline of her shirt to her brow. 

"Y' know, 'the lady doth protest to much', as Beast'd say," Jubilee said with a wicked grin. 

Paige rose from her seat, looking vaguely indignant. How dare she! It was just a kiss. _"Wild thing', indeed!_ She thought to herself, running a hand through her hair. "I'm going to go check out what's down in the kitchen." Anything to get away from this line of conversation.

"Ahuh," Jubilee said, watching her teammate retreat from the room. She went to her bag and pulled out two mini-tapes and her camcorder. grinning to herself. "Hoo boy, I'm gunna get some classy stuff to gossip over!" she crowed to herself, as she looked wickedly toward the door. 

"Oh yeah," Jubilee concluded, "this vacation is gunna be great. Especially with all the tension in the air already…"

********

Need t' eat. 

"Not that kind of eat. I just want a bloody snack, all right?"

No. Need t' sup. 

  
Gayle put her good hand on her hip, tilted her face up to Jonothon's dark glower. Barely hours into the vacation and they were already arguing. Tensions had run high, in spite of the fact that the first 'I love you's had been said, and things were still unresolved. The sexual tension was so thick you couldn't cut it with a saw blade. 

"No," she repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time since she'd come down into the kitchen, "I'm not going to go prodding Jubilee or Ev or anyone else to 'donate'. I can survive with no ill effects for up to a month." 

No, he paused, the conversation taxing his healing psyche, as he brought his hand up to tap her wounded shoulder, Need t' 'eal. 

She rolled her eyes and shooed him away as she tried to move past him to the fridge. The sun was setting and she wanted dinner. Or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof. "Move your arse!"

Need t' _sup._ Jonothon didn't budge—folding his arms over his chest he continued to glower.

Green eyes appraised him for a time—and suddenly he began to worry if this had been the right course of action as she began to step closer, a predator's smile on her lips. He stumbled backward until he was up against the fridge—and found himself trapped, brown eyes wide as she put one hand up against the fridge, inches against away from his temple, and then began to slowly lean in, up on her tiptoes.

Gayle? 

The hand crept closer to his bandaged face—until she snagged the end of one of the straps and tugged lightly. Bandages began to unravel, and the bright blue glow enclosed within spilled out and lit up her face, making her fair skin seem even more pale. "Yes, Jonny?" 

She was inches away. He could practically taste her, lack of tongue and lips aside. 

Wot 'r yer doin'? 

"Mmm… threatening you, in a way. If you do not move this instant, I am, without a doubt, going to kiss you." 

A sudden fear gripped him—kiss him!? But the last time that happened, he'd blown the girls dorm up! No, Gayle—

However, this time, it wasn't unexpected, and it wasn't sloppy and drunk. Her breath stirred the energy—he could 'feel' it, in a way, a strange awareness akin to the sense of touch that had once been there where the flesh had. She paused a moment, green eyes shifting to seriousness, as she leaned lightly against him. "Don't want me to, Jonny? Not even try?"

How did you tell the girl you loved, explain to her, that you wanted nothing more in the world—but that you were afraid you'd kill her if you got it? 

Desire and fear waged war in his eyes, and Gayle sighed softly. _This_, she decided_, was going a step too far, too fast_. She began to pull away—

—until his arms around her waist stopped her from going anywhere. Want yer, he said, voice low and diffused by psychic static, But talk first. 

How did one have a conversation with a boy who could barely say four words? "If that's what you want… " she said in a low voice, her green eyes concerned. 

He sighed softly, and let his head droop forward until his brow rested against hers. Love yer, he repeated, and let his eyes drop close as he felt her fingers thread themselves through his wild hair. She knew that if you wanted to calm him down—or alternately, fire him up—you just had to play with his hair.

And, threading her fingers through his hair, she whispered softly, "Love you to, you bloody sot. Now c'mon, move so I can get a snack?"

Both started as they heard someone in the doorway clear their throat. Gayle glanced over while Jonothon merely refused to open his eyes. He knew that cough. He knew very well to whom it belonged—she'd tried to get his attention with it many a time. 'lo, Paige. 

"Could," Paige said, trying to keep her voice steady, "you move so I can get something to eat?" 

Gayle blushed slightly, backing up and reaching out to grab Jono's shirt and tug him with her. He walked slowly forward, releasing her and almost seeming that if he had blood, his own pale skin would be flushed with embarrassment. Yeah, it was rather awkward to be caught in a compromising position by your ex… 

Paige got her meal in silence… and Gayle suddenly wasn't so desirous of a snack. She flicked her eyes to the tow-headed young woman, and then to the auburn-haired young man. She tugged on his sleeve once, jerked her head toward the door, and then began to slink out. 

He obediently followed after, leaving Paige alone with her food and the hot sting of angry tears that she refused to let fall.

********

Angelo Espinosa _hated_ the sun.

He was used to it, though, and that made it even harder for him. Being a California boy, born and raised, he was used to sun and heat and humidity… 

But damn, his mutated skin made it impossible for him to enjoy it anymore.

And so, there he sat, under what had been dubbed the 'Shade Brigade Tent', which was really a collection of umbrellas strategically-placed for maximum shade at all times and not a tent at all. Unhappy and grumpy. 

After all, there was Paige, out in the water with Monet, Ev and Jubilee, having a grand old time… and for him, fifteen minutes of that sun would instantly dehydrate him. Too much sweat and too much skin made for a miserable vacation.

"Madre de dios," he pronounced to the young woman who sat beside him with her arm in a sling, "this _blows_."

Gayle, being unable to go out and enjoy the water, sat beside him beneath the umbrella. This was due to the fact that her shoulder was still healing from the multiple surgeries and the grafting of metal bones and polymer muscles to replace what couldn't be regenerated when a poorly aimed rifle spray almost took her life. Amused, she just chuckled at the young man's comment. "Could be worse," She mused, and then began to search for what indeed could be worse then being Angelo Espinosa at this moment. "Could be… could be… okay, so it sucks to be you right now."

"Muchas gracias for that support, chica," Angelo grumbled, wrapping his arms around his legs, and eyeing the splashing and laughter of his Country Mouse. She was in a sweet, sky-blue, French-cut one-piece which showed him every _other_ reason he loved her—she was drop-dead gorgeous when she wanted to be. 

"Drool anymore and we'll have another ocean right here at the umbrellas, Ange," Gayle teased and he realized he was indeed staring slack-jawed. 

"Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," she said, and then looked down at the deep green-and-black number she was in, and then shrugged a little. "I'd love to see Jono do whatever his equivalent of drooling over me, for a change, though."

Angelo's brow arched up. _"_He s_till_ not treatin' you right?"

Gayle shock her head, banishing that, "No no, it's not that… we're… it's just… he's… distant, a lot of the time. Physically, that is." She give a beleaguered sigh, and then added, "not that I can't understand that, but…" 

"Yeah. I know that one. Just because you know they care doesn't mean you don't want it to be _shown_ every once in a while." Angelo paused a moment, and glanced back through the maze of umbrellas towards the house. "He even going to come out here?"

"The walking, talking ball of heat absorption?" Gayle sniggered slightly, as she aptly described her beau's tendency to dress in black and nothing else. "Jono _abhors_ hot weather, Angelo. Not that how he dresses helps him any in it." 

"Point."

The two sat in companionable silence, till Gayle finally piped up with a small question. "So… you and Paige finally got your acts together?"

She swore he turned a darker shade of gray as he ran a hand through his hair, leaning back and turning his blue eyes away from the frolicking blonde in the water. "Yeah, kinda," he said with a bashful grin, letting his eyes drop down to the sand. "We got kinda…uh… close."

Both of Gayle's brows arched up, leaning in to hear his story better, "Oh, did you now? And just… how close is close?"

"'Sharing the couch for a few nights' type of close."

Gayle's jaw now sagged, "Oh, y' dog!" But then her mouth clamped shut and the expression turned sly. "So, what kind of 'sharing the couch'?" 

Angelo shot her a vaguely sour look. "The kind that doesn't lead to shotgun weddings," he retorted.

She put up her good hand, and then leaned back. "Well, either way, congratulations." Her voice dropped lower, gentler, "I know how much you care for her." 

Angelo smiled slightly, and then leaned back on his elbows, stretching out his lanky form on the blankets they'd laid out. Again, the companionable silence stretched out as Gayle scooted to edge of the blankets which had been left in the sun—after all, she could actually lay out and enjoy it.

However, she saw that a sneaker was in her way. And that sneaker was attached to a leg. And that leg traveled up and vanished into denim shorts… and then started a tank-top…and black bandages… and a set of dark brown eyes—with both a smirkish and a deeply wistful look to them. Look delectable, Jonothon offered, as he gazed down upon her.

For a moment, she sat, mute. He came _out?_ Into the hot _sun?_ Was this a sign of the Apocalypse? Or had she suffered heat stroke in the shade somehow? 

"Jono?" Apparently she wasn't, because Ange was peering around the umbrellas at the shorts-and-tanktop wearing Brit, lean arms folded over his chest. 

Yeh? he returned defensively. The stance communicated clearly to the two of them what his voice could not: _You tease me about being out here in shorts and a tank top, and I'll go right back inside and be anti-social. _

But Gayle quickly covered for Angelo's faux pas. She sat up, and patted the shady blanket right beside the bit she'd managed to have out in the sun. "Sit down, luvvie, and join us," she cooed—and it worked. Seeing her in her daring little bikini and out in the sun was enough to make his knees go weak and so he sat down without any argument in the shade between her and Angelo. She sat up and briefly moved closer to him, and surprisingly, he put his arm around her waist without hesitation. 

And then she saw the look he directed at Angelo, who merely took it and looked away. _Still defending your claim, eh, _she thought to herself, _not that you need to. Not anymore. _Issuing a low sigh, she patted the hand at her waist and, since he apparently desired this closeness, this assurance that she wasn't going anywhere, settled right against his shoulder.

Which only made Angelo want to have Paige there all the more. He resisted giving his own wistful sigh, knowing that Jono would take it in the worst possible way and probably think that he was pining for Gayle or something equally ridiculous, and so just turned his gaze back out onto the water. 

'appy crowd, Jono emitted after a short silence, though he did feel himself slowly easing into a lean against … his girlfriend? Yes. Girlfriend. That's what she was now. 

"Just the 'Shade Brigade'. 'Cept for me, anyway," Gayle explained. "I was going to lay out and try to tan." Her lips quirked up in a positively wicked smile, as she used what bit of Everett's powers she had left to borrow Jono's a moment to make an offer as she reached for a little brown bottle. Oil me down, love? 

Jono's dark brows arched right up as he saw the bottle being waggled at him, and his male mind. Gayle. Oiled down. There were so many 'naughty' thoughts that ran around this particular image, Emma would have been proud—or intrigued. Sure, he sent, and then reached out to take the bottle—only to find that she turned it into a bit of a game, tugging it briefly out of reach before he could get to it. 

He played along, remembering her penchant for teasing. But after a few minutes of this 'game', he gently grabbed her still-healing arm, reached out and caught her other wrist, and bore her back down against the blanket, using his negligible weight against her body to keep her from getting away with the bottle. Give it, he intoned, but there was a new light behind his eyes. It was good to play and flirt again. Even like this.

But in their game, neither of them had noticed that Angelo had shuffled off just after their impromptu wrestling match had begun, wishing for his own touch of normalcy and play…

********

"One day over, and no emergencies," the White Queen pronounced as she settled in one of the chairs on the porch of the smaller beach house. "The house is still standing, and no debacles of carnal sin and lechery." 

Across the sand, the kids had set up the volleyball net, and Ev and Jubilee were going two-on-two against Paige and Angelo. Monet was laying out in the last rays of the setting sun, and Jonothon and Gayle made quite the couple, curled up together on the swing on the opposite house's porch, the emplate girl dozing lightly against his shoulder.

"Ye've got the luck of the Gods, Emma," Sean pronounced as he watched the kids go about their business. A cool sea breeze teased his red hair, as he leaned against the railing.

Callisto sat on the steps, and just a little farther down sat Penance, poking at the sand with one, claw-like fingertip. It was if the girl had never seen the stuff before—which was quite possible. 

"So, do you think this was worth it? Seeing them… happy?" Callisto asked thoughtfully, as her single eye moved from one young mutant to the next. 

"Yes," answered Emma simply. "They will be able to relax, readjust. There are no more even possible vacations until May, and so this is the perfect opportunity for them to rediscover their social dynamic… which was, admittedly, thrown for a loop with the induction of Gayle into the class." 

Sean made a slightly miffed noise, but Emma continued on, no matter.

"It's not that you made a bad decision, Sean. Hardly. Though I would have weighed the pros and cons of her presence a little more carefully. You had to realize the stress it would cause between Jonothon and Paige?"

"Aye, aye… I did. But she genuinely wanted tae be helped! Who was I tae turn her away?" Sean said as he looked down at his glass. "So we tried."

Emma pursed her lips. "Sean, did you give any thought to asking Monet about a 'cure' for the emplating process? She would be the logical one to ask."

Sean nodded quietly, and said, "She said she didnae know of any. Nothing worked for her brother, so…"

"But Gayle is not a mutant. She is a _human_ with the ability of sup." Emma pursed her lips. The older psi had to wonder if Monet was being totally honest with Sean. The girl's dislike of Gayle was clear to everyone on campus… Maybe she ought to look into the situation. "We'll just have to see what McCoy and Reyes come up with. Between the two of them they ought to be able to do _something_ for her," Emma concluded.

Over the shouts at Angelo's eventual (and inevitable) cheating by using his powers and Jubilee flashing a shower of paffs in his general direction, Callisto asked, "Do you really think they're really ever going to be a coherent unit? A real team?"

"For all that we train them to work together and depend on one another," Emma said curtly, "no, I do not expect them to remain a team. Angelo, Jonothon, even Monet—they all have other wants and desires. Paige, Jubilee, and maybe even Everett, may have aspirations of being X-Men, but I'm not even sure they'll rise to wear the vaunted 'blue and gold'." 

Sean glanced over his shoulder, frowning deeply. But he knew what she said was true. Some of his students had the ability, but some didn't have the ambition. 

"Don't look so disappointed, Sean," Emma chided gently from her seat. "Not everyone was worthy of Interpol, and not everyone can be an X-Man, or a member of the Hellfire Club. It simply doesn't work that way." 

Sean had to concede her point. "Aye, aye. So ye've a point. But, X-Men aside… where do ye think they'd end up?"

Emma's answers came easily enough. "Jonothon in the music industry, easily. He may not be a performer, but he can certainly compose still." She chuckled dryly. "But perhaps he and Gayle might again work together musically." She thought on the other students and their traits and desires. "Everett's got a capacity for love and acceptance that's positively astounding. He'd be an excellent teacher or caregiver. Maybe he'd follow in his father's footsteps."

Sean chuckled softly, and added to Emma's thoughts, "Jubilee'd end up doing somethin' 'in fashion', I think. Paige'd definitely be going into some scientific field. Monet… I'm really unsure. 

"Her…unique nature makes that a bit difficult to puzzle out." Emma agreed.

"What about Angelo?" Callisto queried, glancing back. "Where would he go? What would he do?"

"Tae be honset, I dunna ken." Sean admitted.

"Probably… something illegal, to be honest," Emma said dryly. "Jubilee as well. You forget, the X-Men did at least give them options beyond the street. But had he the options…" She mused on the possibilities for a moment, before saying, "He's got a keen mind, and a flair for both electronics and computers. He could do well in either field. Though his verbose tendencies make him ideal for any sort of social, or people-oriented work."

They fell into silence once more, wondering about the 'might have been' and 'might still be' as they looked across the sand to the students that finally began to head inside for the evening as the beach went dark. The faculty did the same, shortly after.

In the shadows of the evening, Penance finally braved the sand again—and traced patterns that might have been words in the darkness.

********

As the house went quiet, Jono was left alone with his thoughts. The four volleyball players fought over the shower (till Paige just husked and dropped the number down to three arguing mutants), and then dined. Angelo had retired to sleep, Ev and Jubilee snuggled as they watched movies, and Paige carried on something of a conversation with Monet, and Gayle'd finally snagged the shower for herself. 

Leaving Jonothon alone. At least, he was sure, till Gayle either emerged from the shower or he decided to brave sneaking past the romantically entangled pair on the couch.

And so he had returned to look over the ocean as the moon lit up the island from above. It was, he had to admit, a _gorgeous_ evening. 

But the days… seeing Angelo and Paige being obviously closer then normal, seeing Jubilee and Ev touch just because they could—not that they _did _anything untoward in view of anyone. The love and affection and the _bond_ between the two was strong, so strong that much even he, in his permanent miasma of angst and self-absorbed depression, could see it.

Had he and Gayle ever been like that? So close? So strong? He couldn't remember—three years ago seemed like a decade ago to him. _Of course_, he mused to himself, _that's because me time sense is bollixed._

But for whatever reason, he didn't dwell on it—for once.

"Are you aware of the hour, Jonothon?" A crisp, clear voice asked him from the doorway to the house.

Jonothon started slightly, glancing over his shoulder. Monet? 

"Who else would remind you that you ought to at least be inside at this hour?" She said as she walked forward, wrapped in a dark robe. "One would think you'd be spending some time with your paramour." Without another word, she said down on the swing, a polite distance from her classmate.

He blinked at her a moment, and then shrugged. Why? 

"Isn't that what 'lovers' do?" she asked dryly in return, "Snuggle and cuddle and engage in activities the ought rather wait for the marriage bed?"

Boys still 'ucky'? He teased her, looking back to her.

"You didn't answer my question." Monet ignored his comment, spearing him with her own, "Aren't you supposed to be doing that? Being with her, that is?"

Attached 'at the 'ip? He offered and then shook his head. She understood: _No matter that we're involved, we still need time apart._

"Well, at least you have some sense. Though all of these… hormones are nothing but trouble. Such things… are immoral." 

He managed to chuckle softly at her, glancing over and putting up his hands briefly as her eyes narrowed dangerously. Then he sighed and shrugged. Woulda married 'er. He said simply.

One dark brow arched up. "Would you? Married Gayle, that is… had things not gone so awry?"

He paused a moment, and then nodded. Inna 'eartbeat. 

Her nose wrinkled slightly in a display of distaste, and then she shrugged a little. "Your life, I suppose."

Jonothon growled lowly, and then said, simply Stop. 

"Stop what?"

This, he waved one hand helplessly, frustrated and his inability to communicate more clearly with his fractured ability to speak. Gayle. Me. He paused, and added, The emplating. 

Her eyes darkened, and she settled quietly in her seat. "If you insist on letting a devouring monster into your midst or your bed, that is no concern of mine. However," She said, her turn to raise her hand to prevent his growled rebuttal, "I do it because… you are my teammate and I _am_ concerned for your welfare." 

Her words, sadly enough, rang true. No worries, Jono emitted after a time. Gayle won't 'urt me. 

"Are you sure, Jonothon?" Monet asked, looking at him for a long moment. "She is not the young woman you once known, just as you are not the young man she used to," her tone dripped disdain, "frequent pubs with and 'shag'." 

Got a true heart, Jonothon insisted. 

Monet looked away, as she let the silence linger. Finally, she said, "For your sake—and hers—I hope so. It is odd to see you… so optimistic. Maybe," she conceded this one point, "she's good for you."

Jonothon crinkled his eyes gently, and then reached out and touched Monet's hand. No, not everything she'd done was forgiven, but at the very least, one bridge had been mended. She sighed softly, and admitted, in a soft voice, "I worry for you, Jono. You've been wounded greatly. It would… upset me to see you hurt more."

He paused a moment, and pondered, just what he could do, to express to her that he was thankful for her concern… and for her reaching out to him, for a change. But she needed no such communication. She was Monet St. Croix. She knew. 

The two sat in companionable silence, until Monet had quietly dozed off—against Jonothon's shoulder.

He didn't mind.

********

Angelo could no longer take it. He had to cope with the sun, he had to cope with two other couples, and he had to cope with Paige being _right there_ and being basically untouchable for fear Jonothon would get… upset.

After all, Angelo was breaking one of the cardinal rules of Male Friendship. He was Dating The Ex. This would probably be utterly, totally, and irredeemably unforgivable. 

Of course, there was a choice. He could _tell_ Jono what had happened in Cumberland County, and be up front and honest, like he had been with just about everything with Jono.

Or, he could hide and be a coward and steal time with Paige in rare moments, whispered hushes, and sly glances that he hoped that no one was noticing. 

Honesty slunk away in the shadows of the setting sun.

Paige was on the porch. Monet, Jubilee, Ev, and Gayle were inside; the trio was eating and Gayle had a hot press on her shoulder—the wound was still quite sore and painful at times. Jonothon, thank God, was occupied with Emma—no matter that this was a 'vacation', she was still helping him with his psychic gifts. 

Which means he could safely slink out of the door and sidle up behind Paige, who's nose was in a cheesy romance novel—not that you could tell, because she always glued another cover over it. 

His hands covered her horribly goofy, black-rimmed glasses, and as she started slightly, he whispered, "Hey, Country Mouse, why don't we split this Popsicle stand, eh?" 

She gripped his wrists and pulls his hands away from his face. "Angelo?"

"Who else, Paigey?" He said, letting his arms wrap loosely about her shoulders. "So, you wanna split? Go down the beach further, or something? Or poke around the greenery?"

She chuckles softly, and glances back at him slyly. "Y' know, somethin' tells me y' ain't after a nice walk-in-the-park, Mr. Espinosa."

He rolled his eyes, and then made a vaguely exasperated sound. "Paige, I have sat and watched everyone but you, me, and Monet get snuggly. And _no_ one in their right mind is going to snuggle Monet, so… y' know, that leaves you and me. So, I've got some stuff to eat, and so I figured we'd split for a while, eat outside while it was evening and I can bare the UV Rays, and chill for a while." His voice dropped, and he teased, almost plaintively. "Is it so bad I wanna get some time with you?"

She paused quietly, and he wondered what she was thinking as she looked at him, almost appraising, for a moment. "No, actually, it's not," she finally said. "Get your dinner, and lets split. I'll wait out here."

As soon as it was said, he slunk back into the house, got the stuff he had prepared, and a stolen blanket from one of the linen closest, and then stealthily made his way back out. 

Paige got up from the swing and rapped her fingers against the cover. "So?" 

"So what? C'mon." He gave her his best lopsided grin, and then headed down the porch quickly. 

After about twenty minutes of idle wandering inland, Paige eventually ended arm in arm with her beau, and Angelo was feeling pretty good. After all, he finally had some damn time alone with her! Finally, a clearing was discovered, and the blanket laid out. 

The fare was simple—just sandwiches, chips, and soda. Nothing major, nothing extravagant, just what Angelo could do on short notice. But as far as Paige was concerned, it was just great.

"So," she asked as she nibbled on one of the sandwiches, laying on her stomach as he sat close by, "why the secrecy?" 

He frowned between bites, and said, "C'mon, you think Jono is going to take this well?" 

She snorted softly. "Like he's being any more 'respectful' of me, with Gayle? You didn't seem them in the kitchen the first day we were here. Any closer and she would have been _in _his bandages."

"Point." He gave a tired sigh, and said, "I just don't want to cause more stress then needed. 'specially on 'vacation'. With my luck he'll decide to try and pound me into the sand." 

Paige gave a vague sound, conveying her disgust. "That's mature. Remind me who's twenty-two and a 'responsible adult'?" She didn't know _what_ had possessed Emma to put _Jono_ in charge.

Angelo reached out and smoothed back her blonde hair. "Gayle, maybe?" he quipped, trying to lighten her mood. 

She fell quiet for a moment, and he waited on her for a moment, till he couldn't stand the silence anymore. "Paige?"

"Ange," she began, once he's prompted her, "How… how long have… did you… feel like… how long did you keep quiet?" 

He stopped as she looked up at him, and then looked down at the crumbs from his sandwich on the blanket. "A while," he finally admitted. "I mean, you were… you were brave and you didn't take my shit, all the way back to the Phalanx, and I could… respect that. And it didn't hurt that you were gorgeous." He smiled as she blushed, and continued, the words coming a little less haltingly. "I mean, I flirted and all, but you didn't seem to interested. And then… Well, you and Jono happened."

It was now her turn to frown. She offered, after a moment, "And so, you just… sat by… and waited?"

"No, man, you sound like I was a damn vulture," he protested. "I thought Jono would eventually be _smart_ for a change, you know? I mean, he was… it was like he wanted to, but he couldn't stand to give up the thought that _everything_ in his life sucked. After all, if you had a gorgeous, intelligent, affectionate, incredible chica…" He paused, and grinned as she blushed furiously at his praise, "Anyway, I figured with everything you could _want_ in a girl just waiting for him… he'd come around."

She was silent until the blazing heat faded from her cheeks, and then she quietly offered. "So you were the best friend you could be and stood back?"

"Yeah. 'sides… You needed a friend too, and so I played 'both sides', as it were, I guess." 

She sat up slowly, and then cleared her throat. "Ah'd been—I mean, I'd—"

"Y' know, you _do_ have a pretty accent."

"Hush an' let me talk." 

Angelo obligingly quieted.

"As I was saying," she said, smiling again, "I'd… I mean, you were my best friend, and after everything with Jono… fell apart, I had a lot of things to think about, and you were… you were one of them." She ignored him as he leaned a little forward, brows arching up as he listened a little more intently. "But I tried _not_ to give it any thought. Y'see, I thought it meant that I was looking for… a rebound, or something. Not… really caring. And I didn't want to do that. Especially not with you." 

He remained quiet for a moment, and then asked, "And now?"

"And now…" she paused, and took a breath. "I'm not so certain. It's… I don't think it's a rebound, at least." _Not that I'd know, _she thought to herself, before she continued, "I… I really care about you, Angelo."

__

It wasn't 'I love you', but then, he mused to himself, _we all have to start somewhere, right? _He reached over and gripped her arm and tugged her up, getting her to sit up beside him, and then wrapped his arms around her waist. 

"You're really important to me, Country Mouse," he said gravely, looking at her with blue eyes deadly serious. "I just want you to know that."

She smiled, and then slid her arms around his neck. "What did I tell you about saying the words, Angelo?"

He chuckled softly, and said, "You wanted to be shown." And so, without further ado, he drew he closer, finding her lips with his in the shadows of the trees.

She was tentative at first. This wasn't like back the cliff side in Kentucky—it wasn't a stolen moment of passion and borne of need. It was gentle and warm on both sides, as one hand rose to cradle her head, long fingers insinuating into her golden hair. 

Slowly, he eased her back against the blanket, making sure that her head was pillowed on his arm, as he drew her closer still. Her fingers traced lightly over his shoulder blades where his tank top left them bare. 

Slowly but surely, sweetness turned to passion and hunger, as it was wont to do. Paige had been long denied affection, waiting for someone who could not find the courage to reciprocate her love, and Angelo had bottled up his wants and needs with no release. 

Soon, she was arched against his body, breathing quickly as his mouth traveled her throat, nibbling and kissing, his hands sliding along her sides.

But in the haze of touch and caress, Paige realized that he wouldn't go where he wasn't invited. What a wonderful thing it was to have someone who loved you! 

She shyly pushed him back, till he was the prone and at her mercy. Looking down at him, half-hidden by the curtain of her long hair, she leaned down and kissed him again, as he blinked up at her. 

Oh! Well! He could do just fine with this. He sighed in both contentment and enjoyment as her kisses trailed over his jawline, tickling her briefly when she muttered something about stubble and shaving. 

But from there it became a tickling match, and the two end up wound up together on the blanket.

Tickling gave way to kissing once more, a little more urgent and passionate this time, as his fingers got caught up in her hair—and she not-so-discreetly untucked his tank top and ran her hands over his sides.

His ardor-fogged mind finally kicked back into gear, and he gave Paige one final, passionate kiss, before moving back and asking, "How far… do you really want to go?" After all, her hands were in _his _shirt. "And do you really want to go there out _here?_" 

She looked down at him, and then looked up. It was dark. It was a… a jungle, for crying out loud! _No, _she decided, _this is not where I want to get … serious. Or even semi-serious. _She smiled down at him, and then kissed him warmly. "We ought to go back." 

He nodded his agreement, and grinned slightly. "C'mon. Lets get our stuff and get back before angst-boy gets his 'knickers' in a twist." He didn't _mean_ to sound so harsh about it… but it was hard not to. 

But Paige didn't mind. She rose quietly, and smoothed down her shirt, before they began to pick up their dinner-stuff and blanket, shaking it out and folding it back up. 

They walked only a few minutes before Paige glanced around, and asked, "Angelo? Do… is this the way we came?"

He looked around briefly, and then sighed. It was dark, and he hadn't really paid that much attention to the scenery on the way into the tree-covered jungle. Finally, he said, "Actually, chica, I don't know."

They wandered for twenty minutes more, and finally, Angelo said, with dread in his voice, "I think we're lost."

********

Jonothon returned from his last 'repair session' in good spirits. Though his 'voice' was still somewhat static-fuzzed, he could at least project a more coherent sentence longer then four words.

Gayle and he paired up on one couch, Everett and Jubilee on the other, as movies were watched, and Monet lost herself to her own little world while her eyes remained riveted to the screen. 

But Gayle's shoulder was acting up, and she retired early with a hot compress. And though he'd spent the last evening with Monet, and where that hadn't been all that bad, he didn't want a repeat. 

The evening stretched on. He returned to the porch, watching the moon traverse the sky again, and giving Jubilee and Ev a modicum of privacy, before he realized.

Paige and Angelo.

They'd been gone since before the five remaining students had curled up on the couch and watched TV. 

He was suddenly no longer in good spirits.

He _knew _it. He'd seen it—sensed it—between the two. Knew they were _close_ all the way back to that night at Gil's when they were on the run from Operation: Zero Tolerance. Seeing Paige at Angelo's shoulder in the darkness, seeing her ease with him and the smile that he got. 

__

Best friend.

Girlfriend.

Angelo and Gayle… it was the _second_ time, wasn't it? The second time he'd moved in on Jono's territory. His girl. No _wonder_ things with him and Paige never worked out. With Angelo 'helping' him! A feeling of betrayal, of hurt that stretched for almost three years of friendship, suddenly turned to ashes on his non-existent tongue.

He settled in to wait.

Waiting to let them know _just_ how angry he was. 

And he hoped Angelo had his insurance paid—because he was going to get that hurt Jono felt now back in _spades._

********

"Gawd," Paige muttered as she and her paramour crept closer to the porch. "Why do Ah feel like Ah'm sneakin' home and mah daddy's waitin' with the shotgun?"

"Because Jono has a built-in tac-nuke, and he won't be afraid to use it. And, he doesn't sleep. He has nothing _better_ to do then sit up and wait for us." That was a visual that Angelo just didn't need, as they both finally hurried down the beach—they'd _finally_ made their way out of the dense forestry, only to find themselves a… little farther down the beach then expected.

"He's got no reason t'—"

"Paige, we've been over this. He doesn't _need_ a reason. He'll think he's justified. Trust me. We're guys. We don't think straight when girls are involved." 

Paige had to concede _that_ thought! They continued in tense silence the remainder of the slow trek up the sand. In the darkness, they couldn't see his black-clad form.

But as they got closer, the hollow, static-infused psionic voice let them know that he was indeed waiting on the porch. So. Wot took yer so long? 

"Went exploring," Ange said, blanket held to his back by strategically placed tendrils of skin. "But it got dark and we got lost." 

It was a lie. Jono knew it was a lie, Angelo knew it was a lie, and Paige knew it was a lie. 

Jonothon stood there, on the porch, a dark specter swathed in bandages as he came just to the edge of the stairs. There was still a clear line to the doorway. Angelo stepped aside, and jerked his head in the direction of the door. 

Paige got the signal clearly, and marched right up the stairs, breezing past Jono without another word. Angelo followed quickly after, dropping the blanket from his back and passing it forward to Paige smoothly. Jono never saw the stealthy pass—his eyes were riveted to Angelo's face.

But just after the blanket was passed, Jono interposed his body between Angelo and Paige, staring down at the later. Yer ain't goin' anywhere. Yer an' me are gonner 'ave a lil' _chat._

Something told Angelo that Jono was going to talk with his fists—or worse yet, the bio-blasts. "So talk." He glanced around the taller mutant's shoulder, and met Paige's worried gaze. He nodded once, and she went inside—and waited by the window. Leave Angelo? To deal with this on his own? Not on your life.

Jonothon took one step downward—forcing Angelo the same step back. And another. All the while, his hollow voice echoed through the confines of Ange's mind. Yer lousy son of a bitch. So 'ow long yer been at this? Givin' me support an' then sneakin' off wit' 'er, the moment me back was turned? 

And just his luck, Angelo dismally realized, Jono could talk again. Great. Well, at least he didn't have to sit through short bursts of staticy, four word accusations which would have led to fists far quicker on the frustrated psi's part. "Jono, I didn't do anything while you and Paige… were sorta… doing whatever it was around your relationship. I kept my hands to myself."

Liar. The accusation hung heavy in the air between them. Like yer did in the grotto, eh? 

Angelo winced, blue glow rapidly flaring into a red blaze as he fought for control of his emotions. "I thought we'd been _over_ that." 

Oh, yeah. Y' took advantage 'f Gayle then, since apparently Paige didn't want yer Spic cock. I see now, Jonothon's voice dripped every bit of venom—but that was the _last_ straw.

"Oh, _fuck you,_ Jono!" Angelo snapped back, his lips pulling back in a snarl. "Gayle came to _me_," he hissed lowly. "Gayle was _hurting_ and _alone _and you were fucking up with _her _just like you fucked up with _Paige_. Or do you do that on purpose, 'Jonny'? Think you need the _fucking pity?_"

Jonothon's eyes widened—and for a split second, it seemed as if he was too stunned to answer. 

Until his fist contacted with Angelo's jaw with a sharp unexpected uppercut which lifted him off his feet and sent him sprawling onto his back in the sand. 

"_ANGELO_!" Paige cried from the window, and scrambled for the door, practically kicking it open. She reached out to grab Jonothon's arm, but he was already on the move, picking Angelo up by the front of his tanktop and a bit of loose skin. Angelo coughed, gasping for the breath which had been knocked from him when he hit the sand, blood flecking his lips and dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

Paige again moved for Jonothon's arms to haul him back, but he merely pushed her aside. "Don't ya hurt him, Starsmore, or Ah really _will _tear ya a new hole!"

Get up and fight yer cocksuckin' son of a bitch, Jono snarled, ignoring Paige's threat. Angelo's eyes focused, bloody red, on his. And then came Angelo's answer as he was hauled to his feet. 

Jono may have lacked intestines or organs—but the knee to his groin assured him that all of the nerves there were fully functional. He made a pained sound, laced with psychic static, as he briefly doubled over—and then brought his fist into the Latino's gut.

Angelo coughed again, and cursed the fact that he was made of blood and bone, and used the momentum of the swing to get himself out of Jono's grip. The two faced off for a moment, eyes hateful. 

Gonner bloody _kill_ yer. 

"Oh, fuck off, Jono. I'm not interested in you, your shallow self-pity, or anything _else._ Fucking get _off _it already!" This time, Angelo took a swing, adrenaline and testosterone getting to them both.

Blows were exchanged, as the two slugged one another and tossed each other to the ground—nevermind that the whole class had been drawn out by Paige's cries and the resulting ruckus. Angelo's blood stained his shirt and Jono's fists, and as blows were landed, bandages began to fall slack, revealing the wild, whipping energy until the chamber seemed to be a participant of the fight itself. Writhing and undulating around Jonothon's slim form, it illuminated the porch—and the four other people that had come out in the commotion. 

Neither heard the shouts and finally, strong hands were on the two combatant's arms. Ev and Monet pulled Jonothon back from the once again fallen Angelo, Paige and Gayle placed themselves between Jono and the object of his rage. Jubilee ran to get the first aid kit from inside the beach house. Jonothon struggled a moment, but the rage dimmed, and he was held still, wild fires of his chamber dancing over their skin.

Angelo coughed and hacked on the ground, finally managing to croak, "I don't wanna even _look_ at him…" and Paige helped him up. 

"Are ya satisfied?" Paige hissed as she helped the battered Espinosa past the still-held psi. "Not only did ya lose _me_, ya just lost yoah best friend." 

Bollocks! He ain't been me friend since— 

"—Since you started thinking of no one but yourself, Jonny?"

He turned his eyes back to Gayle, to find her stepping closer. Wisely, Everett and Monet released him, and stepped back. Everett moved to help Angelo and Paige, as Gayle advanced on Jonothon.

"This what you want, Jono? This it? All this fucking hate and rage and venom?" she hissed at him, and he stopped and stared. 

Gayle, I— 

"Shut up, you bloody sod! I don't want to _hear_ it! This is _not_ what you do when you're over someone, Jonny. This is not what you do when you plan to say in the next breath, 'I love you Gayle'." She held her arms—even the wounded one—rigid at her sides, hands clenched into fists. "Do you _love me, _or are you _still hung up on Paige?_" The flame of his chamber danced over her face, making the tears that spilled down her cheeks dance in the firelight. 

He paused, struck silent—and finally said, Gayle, 'e— 

But she didn't even let him finish it. He got a hand whipped out, slapping across his face with the accuracy of a woman truly scorned, laying open the flesh of his cheek with the jagged teeth in her palm. They clacked and snapped with her rage. "To hell with you, then," she spat, green eyes bright with her own rage, and then pushed past him.

He turned to see her vanish into the beach house—and saw that only Monet remained outside with him. 

Her cool brown eyes bore into him, and she said on simple thing. "Her heart _is_ true," the Algerian mutant intoned, almost regretfully. "Yours isn't. I'm not sure who I pity more." And then she turned on her heel, ascended the stairs, and paused and the door. She glanced toward the second beach house, and then back toward Jono.

"You'd better be prepared. Emma knows." And then, she vanished inside.

The lights went on and off in the house as they moved, and Jonothon was left, finally, truly alone.

********

"Madre de dios," Angelo mumbled around a swollen lip, "I feel like I took on Apocalypse." 

"Hardly. But you _did _take on someone who is hard to put a hurt on," Jubilee said as she opened up the first aid kit. Paige paced in the kitchen as Jubilee and Everett worked on patching the bloodied and bruising Angelo. The purpling marks stood out harsh and angry against his pale, ash gray skin, and made her all the more upset.

"Paige, relax," Everett said, reaching out to touch her arm, and then drew back as she shook it off.

"Ah cannot believe him! Ah swear ta Gawd, Ah don't understand that boy. Ah wait foah him an' love him an' he _lets me go_, and hooks up with Gayle, an' _nah_ he beats up Angelo over me?"

Angelo sighed and then croaked out, "Country Mouse?"

"What?" She turned immediately, instantly solicitous of his needs.

"Callate?" He winced as Everett cleaned the cuts along his lips and cheek, and paused to spit out blood and make a face. "Tell you this, Jono could make alotta money in the ring…"

"Ah cannot _believe_ yoah jokin' 'bout this," Paige muttered.

"Why not?" Angelo asked in return, and then batted Ev's hands away, before carefully sliding out of his chair and stumbling over to his flustered girlfriend. He reached up and caught her hands, and held them steady. "Listen to me. This ain't changing anything. Not between me and you, anyway. Jono can have his shit fit. The one I'm worried about—" He paused as Gayle dashed by, choking back sobs, "—is her."

Paige fell silent, and then sighed. "Ah… Shit, Ah'm the last person who should go talk to her." 

Monet entered quietly after, and then arched a brow. "Angelo, are you all right?" she asked as she looked over the bruised and beaten Espinosa.

"Si si, nothing to worry about, eh?" he waved a hand as if nothing was the matter.

They all fell into tense silence, and then looked out the window, toward the hunched figure that no doubt sat on the steps. And then they exchanged looks amongst themselves. 

"So what do we do about Angst Boy the idiot?" Jubilee finally asked.

"Up to you," Angelo said. "But _I_ am going to to bed. I hurt like hell. Muchas gracias for the assist, though." A tendril of skin slowly extended and wrapped around the bottle of Tylenol from the first aid kit, as he began to move again. 

Paige stopped him once, carefully kissed his cheek, and then let him hobble upstairs. She wiped her eyes again briefly, and then said, "Ah think… Ah'm gunna go to bed mahself." 

Everett glanced at Jubilee, and then up at Paige. "You… You can share the room with Angelo, if you want. He might sleep easier with you there." He gave a tiny smile, and said, "I think Jubilee and I can share a room safely."

Paige looked a moment at Ev, and then at Jubilee, who nodded… and blushed _just_ a hint. "Thanks," she finally said, and then went up the stairs after him.

The final three looked at one another, and finally, Monet said, "If he comes in, that's his prerogative. I myself am going to bed as well." The pair nodded, and Ev and Jubilee were left cleaning up the kitchen. 

Finally, once the first-aid kit was put away, Ev moved up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. She patted his hands leaned back against his chest, closing her eyes and sighing. 

"You going to be alright?" he asked, ever solicitous of her.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay. Really." She paused a moment, and then looked at the window to where they could see the flames from Jono's chamber still dancing and flickering, and then upstairs.

"He loves her. He's just an idiot about things," Jubilee said matter-of-factly, and then sighed. "He just spent a week at her bedside, praying she wasn't gunna die. And now look at him. Someone needs to smack him upside the head with a Clue-By-Four." 

"I agree with you there," Ev said, as he kissed her hair, "but I'm not going to be the one to do it." He sighed and tightened his arms about her. "So, do you want to go to bed now, or…?"

"Actually… gowon without me. I'm gunna… see if I can talk to one of them. But first I wanna drink." 

He 'hmm'ed softly, and then kissed her hair again. "If you say so. Just wake me when you come up?" She nodded, and then waited for him to shuffle off.

She looked between the two doors. Kick Starsmore's ass… or comfort Gayle. Kick Starsmore's ass… or comfort Gayle.

It was time to lay the smack down on Mr. Starsmore.

She moved purposefully toward the door, and out into the night.

********

He was a total, utter fuck-up.

He had just lost his best friend, his girlfriend, and everyone else he knew who even had the vague notion of accepting him for who or what he was, had universally walked out on him. 

After winding up his bandages, he finally got up and stumbled down the beach, shoulders hunched, head bowed and feeling like the heel that he was. 

The message they'd all sent by simply walking away from him rang loud and clear: _Starsmore, you are a total rat bastard._

But Gayle… Gayle's teary eyes and that accusing stare and the… the anguish in her voice. Hadn't he waited and hoped and begged her to come back to him, while she lay near death in a drug-laden haze? And he just…

Drove her away. 

__

Fucking idiot! He chided himself, _All this over Paige! PAIGE! An' look 'oo yer 'urt! Gayle! Gayle 'oo came back t' yer and 'oo loved yer and now yer gone an' 'urt her again! _He stopped, pulling his fists out of his pockets, and clenched them tightly. Hell, he was half-tempted to go back and let the _group_ beat him black and blue.

However, as he 'sighed' dejectedly and turned to head back, he found his path blocked.

Jubilee was there, guiding herself by one of the glowing globules of her paffs. "Okay, Jono," she said without preamble, "You an' _me_ are gonna have a 'chat'." She stated flatly, her blue eyes ablaze. "'Cept I'm not gunna beat ya up like an idiot. I'm just gunna tell ya straight. You're a prize winning, Grade A, worse then Bobby Drake is or ever will be, Idiot. And ya just entitled yourself to the patent Wolverine Smackdown. 'cept _I _ain't gonna _snikt_ ya."

He flinched as if she'd just raised her hand to strike him. I know, he said dejectedly.

Jubilee paused and blinked a moment. He knew? He was just going to let her win like that? With no fight? Well, in a way she was glad. It'd be less grief. "Good. Now you listen to me, Starsmore. Yer gunna go back to that beach house, and yer gunna beg Gayle's forgiveness." 

But— 

"Shaddap! No buts!" she snapped, and then continued, "And _then_, you're gunna apologize to Ange in the morning." 

But— 

"But _what?_" she said gruffly. "You got yourself a choice, Jono. Lose everything that matters to you and _really _be the 'freak' on the outside, or you can _work_ for once to get it back. What's it gunna be, Jono? You going to go back to lurkin' in the basement, and being _really _half a man? Do ya?" 

He paused as he let her words sink in, looking down and away as she berated him. Did he really want these things? Did he want to be everything he'd hated about himself for so long? No. 

"Then get yer gothic ass back ta the beach house, and you go upstairs, and you apologize to Gayle, first off. Then, you apologize ta Ange, and everyone else. And if you're _lucky,_ they'll forgive you. If you're not, well, you're the one who blew it. Remember that."

She turned without another word, and started back.

He followed after without hesitation.

********

Gayle slept the sleep of the emotionally and physically exhausted. Restless and worthless and leaving her moving in the bed, rolling and aching as she made tiny sounds of pain. Her shoulder hurt. Or was it lower? A little more to the left? 

Ah yes. The ache wasn't in her shoulder at all. It had nothing to do with grafted muscles and steel bones, and everything do with the bleeding wound where Jono'd ripped her heart from her chest.

Metaphorically speaking, anyway.

But then there was a gentle touch at her brow and a soft, insistent voice urging her to complete wakefulness. Gayle? 

Her eyes fluttered open and in the darkness she could make out that familiar form. She hadn't woken up to it in the last few years—and this was definitely not how she wanted to wake up to it now.

But she did not react half as well as he would have liked. "What the hell do _you_ want?" She hissed at him, rubbing her eyes as she struggled to sit up.

Please, he pleaded, laying two fingers over her lips before she could stop him. Listen t' me, Gayle. I… There was a pause as he gathered his courage, I can't bear t' leave yer 'urtin'. Please, Gayle, I love yer. An' I'm sorry I did 'at t' yer. 

She sat up, and reached with her good hand to turn on the lamp beside the bed, and looked at his haggard, weary face. His unnatural pallor was only more intensified by the worn look to his scarred face. His blinked and narrowed his eyes as the light lanced them, putting up one of his large hands to shade his eyes briefly, waiting for them to adjust to the light.

"You look like shite."

I feel like shite, he agreed, and then clasped her hand as she moved it from the lamp. Gayle, I'm sorry. He repeated, looking at her earnestly, the worry in his dark eyes intense. I never want t' 'urt yer. I jus' got yer back… When I almost lost yer, gel, I didn't know wot I wos gonner do, wit'out yer, knowin' I'd been a fool not t' love yer as… as yer deserved. I'm sorry. I don't—and never did—love Paige like I love yer, gel. Please forgive me? 

As he began to ramble, her expression eased, and she bit her lower lip, tears threatening to overflow as she pulled her hands free from his. "Dammit," she managed in a low, aching voice, slipping away from him and the dangerous comfort of his arms, "you want forgiveness? So you can break my heart all over again? You'll look at her and him again, you'll see them some where—they'll steal a kiss and you'll be at it again." She tossed back the covers, rising, leaving the expanse of the bed between them.

No! he exclaimed, and then dropped his voice to an urgent whisper, as he rose, and paused there, No, Gayle, I won't. I swear t' yer, I don't bloody care wot they do. I love yer…and I can't stand t' lose yer again. 

"Oh, it takes me just about bloody buying the _farm_ to get you to realize this? And two weeks later you're getting out some aggro with Angelo?" She snorted dryly, shaking her head. "You're a liar, Jonothon. You don't love me. I'm just another _bandage_ for you." 

He winced as if she'd struck him. What had Paige said to him? _I'm nothing but a bandage for your poor, wounded heart. _ No, Gayle, he said softly, I won't let yer be 'at. I want yer t' be more 'en that. He began to move around the bed to where she stood.

She turned her back to him, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't believe you." 

Gayle, he said urgently, reaching out with unsteady hands to grip her shoulders gently and turn her, mindful of her wound, I brought yer 'cross the ocean, t' try an' save yer life. I couldn't bear t' lose yer then, and I can't now. 

Tears streaked her face as she tilted her chin in defiance of his words, jaw clenched tight. She wasn't breaking down. She _wouldn't_ break down!

Hand trembling, he reached up and wiped away her tears as they raced down her cheeks. I love yer, Gayle, he whispered again, trying to assure her of his sincerity. Wotever yer'll ask of me, I'll do. Wotever yer want of me, yer'll 'ave. I swear Gayle, so long as yer drawin' breath, I'll do wotever it takes t' be worthy of yer. 

It was an uphill battle, but she was tired and hurting and he was looking at her with those _eyes_ of his that could turn her to Jell-O, and finally, she just sighed. "Hurt me like that again, you addled clod," she whispered as he wrapped her up in his arms, "and I'll kill you." 

Never. Never again, she felt his hooked nose against her hair as he trembled against her, burying the remains of his face in her auburn hair. So close. So very close to losing her again. But never again. He was going to do things _right _this time.

"Stay with me," she finally breathed against his bandaged chest. "Just… be with me." 

He nodded, and slowly disengaged from her. The tank top was discarded, and he had to still his shaking hands before he could get out of those denim shorts…and then the light was off and she was in the bed and sliding over to make room for him.

Love yer, he repeated, as he slipped into the bed beside her, taking her in his arms, mindful of her mending shoulder. Swear t' God I do, Gayle. 

"Not much of an oath, seeing as you're a lapsed Anglican, Jono." 

He gave a weak chuckle, Must I quote Shakespeare fer yer? 

"No. Just… be here." 

I c'n do 'at. 

She said nothing in return, and merely snuggled against his chest, ignoring the smell of salt and leather and stale air from the bandages. 

He held her throughout the night, listening to her steady breathing, and promised himself and her both that he'd never let her go.

********

Paige was up at the crack of dawn—tension and last night's events had wound her up, and she was up early as a matter of fact most days anyway. 

Rolling over in one of the two beds, she cracked open her eyes, and then winced as a sliver of light from the blinds stabbed them. She rolled over, sighed softly, and then resigned herself to her fate.

She was up at five am when she was supposed to be on vacation.

She sat up, trying to be quiet as she could. Angelo was a notoriously deep sleep when he felt secure… but she doubted that after being beat up by his best friend he'd feel 'secure'. 

The self-same mutant was asleep in his bed, one hand tucked under the pillows, the other over the blankets, flat on his back, brown hair mussed about his face. His skin was relaxed, and lay in soft folds on his face.

There were days that Angelo was not a handsome teen, but Paige cared for him anyway.

She tiptoed out of their shared room, and pondered simply husking away last nights tension—as well as into a change of clothes. But first… something to eat. Or drink. Something.

She padded down the short, upstairs hall for a moment—till she noticed that Gayle's door was just slightly ajar. She peeked inside and saw the sleeping Brit in her bed, and so thought nothing of it. She continued on her way—until the door to the bathroom swung open.

Rhere was Jonothon, holding a bottle of pain killers in one hand and running his other through his hair. A low, almost unnoticeable, hum issued from him—subvocal psionic grumbling. And he was half-dressed, she noted with a slight widening of her eyes; boxer shorts and bandages and that was _everything. _

And then he looked up. 

Their eyes met. 

He froze, caught as easily as a stag staring into headlights.

Paige internally waged the merits of beating him senseless right here and now, and she could see his pupils shrink to pinpricks. Oh yes, he knew he was in trouble. Her jaw set, and she straightened. No more creeping—not in front of _him._

I've… got t' get Gayle 'er pills, he finally said, his eyes dropping from hers and finding the floor. 'er shoulder's actin' up. 

Paige's brows arched up. Gayle was _talking _to him? Or was this sort of a Jean-And-Scott type of mental thing? Not that she thought that Gayle and Jono were anywhere _close_ to having the wonderful, loving relationship that the Summers' did, but one had to wonder about him and his powers.

Yer can beat on me soon as I get these too her, he added as he reluctantly started forward. She backpedaled a few steps, so he could get to her door, and then he went inside and closed the door behind him. There was the familiar, almost-there hum of his psionic speech, laden with psychic static, inside the room, as he and Gayle shared whatever moment they were having within. 

And then, the door opened again. Jono was now back in his jean shorts, though he was still without shirt—the bandages ended at the bottom of his half-gone ribcage and left his stomach visible.

At one time, she would have liked that view. Right now, she was debating burying her fist into that lean tummy. 

And to make matters worse, he could _see_ it in her eyes. That hate and loathing was clear, and he shrank, almost folding in on himself beneath the fury of her gaze. He shuffled to the bathroom and put Gayle's painkillers away, and then ambled to the top of the stairs, in no real hurry. He cut a glance at her—and then walked down to the main floor—as if it were to the gallows.

She followed, plotting to do great bodily harm. After she'd lectured him. "So she forgave you?" she asked tersely as he dropped himself into a chair in the kitchen. 

To a point. 

Paige gave a dry snort. "She's got a bigger heart then me. Or you're taking advantage of her 'doormat' tendencies," she said snippily, and then didn't feel so proud after Jonothon winced and shrank.

I 'ope not, he said softly, and then fell silent under the country girl's gaze. Paige… 

"Yes?"

I'm sorry. For everything. From bein' such a fuckin' prick t' bollixin' things up wit' yer t' last night. He still didn't raise his eyes, staring shamefacedly at his hands as they lay folded on the table. I've been right stupid, an'… An' I didn't want t' 'urt yer, but… not 'at this makes it any better, but gel, I did… I did love yer. Just… not like I loved Gayle. 

As she sucked in a breath and tried to gather her wits for a suitable retort, he finally brought his eyes to bear on her, putting up one hand to still her voice. Not 'at this makes anythin' any more excusable, He said hastily, and she calmed a little. I'm not lookin' for… for… an excuse. I jus'… want yer t' see from this end of things. 

"It… Ah guess it just was one of those things that wasn't meant ta be," Paige said sullenly, looking away. "But Jono… Angelo is _there_ for me, and he _loves _me." Even if she wasn't sure of how she truly felt about Angelo, she knew how he felt about her. "And I'm not the only one he's always been there for, Jono."

He looked away, tightness coming to his eyes. I know, he finally admitted. Took Jubilee comin' t' lay the 'Patented Wolverine Smackdown' t' sink in, but… I'm gonner set it right, gel. 

"That," came a gravelly voice from the stairs, "Is definitely easier said then done, hombre." Angelo, wrapped in one of the terry-cloth robes that were left at the beach house, wandered over to the small kitchen.

Angelo— 

"Save it, hombre. I don't wanna hear it." Ange put up one hand, refusing to turn his bruised face to Jono, to let him really see how badly he'd hurt him. But then Paige was at his side, looking at him with concern. 

"You okay, Angie?"

"Si, si," he whispered to her, and then shot and blood-red gaze in Jono's direction before murmuring to Paige, "What the _hell_ has he been talking to you about?" 

Jonothon dejectedly dropped his stare to the table top again. 

Briefly, Angelo felt as if he'd kicked a puppy, seeing the brown-eyed Brit upset. And then he realized the 'puppy' was really a Rottweiler in disguise who'd mauled him last night. 

Thoughts of any forgiveness flitted out the window, even as Jono glanced over at him. Angelo pointedly did not look at him, or say anything. He merely started up his coffee, and said around his split lip, "I'm goin' out for a smoke. Don't let him talk you into anything like forgiving the son of a bitch." And with a hard glare at his former 'amigo', Angelo strode from the kitchen out the door to the porch.

Jonothon and Paige remained in the echoing silence that Angelo left in his wake, and Paige looked over at her former beau. "Looks lahke ya might've finally burned one too many bridges last night, Jonothon," she said, and then quietly followed Angelo out to the porch.

Jonothon was left alone with his thoughts and the sound of the bubbling coffee.

***********

The last two days of the vacation passed quietly on. Jonothon kept to himself, and while Jubilee, Monet, Everett, Gayle and Paige were willing to give him a conditional second chance of sorts, Angelo was not. 

Paige noticed that it was almost like when Angelo had first come to the Academy—he was tired and guarded and a little bit distant, even to her.

Of course, the headmasters were_ furious._ Jonothon's car privileges were suspended, and he was informed that there would be more punishment lumped atop that once they had time to think about it at the Academy. Till then, he was restricted to his dorms when not actually in class. Not that this changed much… but it limited him, regardless. He took it surprisingly well however.

At least he knew he'd done wrong, Paige thought, as they packed up their things and prepared for departure. She carried both her bags and Angelo's, seeing as he was still quite bruised. Jono had been in more then one pub brawl, and though his training at the academy hadn't been physically intensive—he still knew how to fight.

As she joined the others outside on the porch, she looked back over her shoulder, sighing softly, and then came down to stand beside Angelo as he gazed across the ocean, squinting behind sunglasses. 

"You alright?"

"Si."

"Are you—"

"—I'm sure, Paige," he said firmly, but gently—but his hand found hers, regardless. "Just never thought I'd…" the words tapered off and silence hung between them. "Nevermind."

She squeezed his hand gently, and then looked on as the group began to shuffle down to the road to meet the boat that'd take them to the island with the airstrip. Next time Emma decided a holiday was in order… Paige would happily stay on campus, if they were going to turn out like _this._

"Are you ready, children?"

"I'm not a child, Frost," Angelo said grimly as they boarded. So caught up in his own thoughts, he never heard her reply.

"I know you aren't, Angelo. But some of you still are."


End file.
